Ghost
by Starlit Skyline
Summary: He knows he is nothing but a poltergeist in this new house, and soon an exorcist will come to banish him from these cold walls. pre-series, set before Natsume met the Fujiwaras.


AN: I was tempted to call this "Questionable Humanity" or something along those lines, but I think "Ghost" suits it better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Oh, and if it isn't too much trouble, could you leave me a comment at the end?

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Ghost

At night, Natsume can't sleep. It isn't because he's not tired – most of the time, he's so exhausted he's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow – nor is it because he wants to defy rules and be a big boy by staying up late. No, he's too afraid to. It shouldn't really matter, the monsters are always there – in the daylight and in his nightmares. He should know by now there's no escape from them.

The first night after a move is the hardest though. There's always a sense of disorientation – of being utterly _lost _– every time he changes his living space. More often than not, he doesn't know the people who took him in this time around (_he does, however, know that they won't tolerate him for long_). The people he stays with are vastly different – from doctors and businessmen to farmers and housewives (_they always leave him in the end though, so there's no point in getting overly attached_). Sometimes, the house or apartment he's staying at is homey and small, or traditional or spacious and modern (_but the walls are always cold and distant, like those of a tomb_).

At the start, a new home is always inviting, always waiting for him with open arms – only for him to be kicked out like a stray dog a short while later. The shortest he's ever stayed with anyone is about two weeks, the longest being a year.

He does his best to forget. He's already forgotten his real home, the one he could actually call that, and he does his best to do the same with every other quasi-home he's had since. The past is all a dark blob to him – full of shadows and disfigured faces that may or may not have belonged to demons and the all consuming loneliness and hate that stuck to him like a invisible cloak (_weighting him down, hiding him away, clutching him so tightly he thinks he'll suffocate any moment now_).

He screams. He cries. No one hears, or if they do they do nothing about it besides tell him to shut up – he's telling lies again anyway, who'd want to listen to that?

The kids call him crazy. They say he's delusional, attention hungry and a _liar._

_Liar! Liar! _The demons in the night sing. And he whimpers and curls in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. Maybe, if he tries, he'll even manage to disappear. At least then the hurt and cold would go away.

_I'm alright_, he tells himself – and it's the first lie he's ever told.

The second one is plainer, but harder to execute. _There's nothing there._ But there is. It's deformed and inhuman and there only for his eyes to see. _There's _nothing _there. _And it's ironic how people only call him a liar when he's telling the truth – but now that he's actually lying he's forfeited that title.

Some kids say he's a monster because he can see then – that he's the same as them – while the monsters laugh and call him human. He doesn't know what's worse. He doesn't know what he is.

And so he lies. He's gotten good at such things over the years. His face has become placid and docile. He's learned when to smile, when to laugh. He's also learned to speak the words people want to hear, the words that make him feel the slightest bit normal. They are a meek comfort. They never last.

_Liar! Liar!_ The shadows sing in his dreams, dancing and flickering in the darkness – it's so dark he can't even tell if their faces are human or not. There must be youkai there, somewhere among the crowd (_because they're _always _there_), but he can't tell them apart from a regular person. They're all the same, in his eyes.

Humans or youkai, it doesn't matter. He hates them all.

Still, Natsume is powerless to stop their disdainful words from piercing his ears and spreading through him like a poison. He's helpless when faced with the monsters (_they're so scary, so alien – but he doesn't scream for help, because no one will come, no one will ever save him_), and he's helpless when faced with his peers, people in general even (_and maybe, just maybe, and he's ashamed to admit this – he fears them more than he does the monsters_).

But nonetheless he smiles politely, transparently, and courtesy accepts any offer of family, any offer of friendship and tries to enjoy it as long as they are willing to offer it.

He knows it won't last.


End file.
